Breadsticks
by Chiddie
Summary: Santana hears two words from Coach Beiste.


**A/N: **Somehow related to Brushing with the Bush

* * *

Santana's walking by the teacher's lounge when she hears those two words.

Two words of change. Two words of promise. Two words of hope.

She has never heard words more heavenly. It's as if Coach Beiste were possessed by an angel, bringing the promise of a new age.

_Breadstix delivers._

Santana's heart stops, and it's all she can do not to fall to the floor. She has to find Brittany.

She runs faster than she ever has before, and she's nearing Brittany's Spanish class when she realizes something.

Brittany knows her more than anyone else ever will, sometimes more than Santana does herself, but she, in all the years Santana has known her, has never understood the glory of Breadstix.

She turns around and races to the parking lot, sending a quick text to Brittany that her mom's bringing her to the dentist and that she'll see her lovely girlfriend tomorrow.

She unlocks her car and throws in her things in the backseat, and practically dives in the front and starts up the engine. She drives to her house, just below the speed limit, and parks outside. She hopes it's not too late.

Her house is silent; her parents are probably still at work. Perfect.

She reaches for the phone and starts to dial the—fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She has no idea what their number is.

Lesser mortals might have crumpled right there and then, but she's Santana Lopez, and when she's set on something, she gets it. Whatever means necessary.

She grabs her mobile and searches through her contacts. She finds the number that she's looking for, and dials.

He takes forever to pick up. Santana feels precious seconds slipping away.

"Hello, may I ask who this is?"

"Mr Schue, it's Santana. I need Coach Beiste's number."

"I'm sure that whatever problem you have, I'd be of mo—"

"Mr Schue, if you ever plan to be useful in your life, this would be a good time. I. Needz. Coach's. Number. Comprende? It's a life or death situation."

"I—"

"Life or death Mr Schue. Not necessarily for me."

He quickly gives her the number and she disconnects right after. Must not waste precious time.

She dials the Coach's number. She picks up immediately and Santana praises the high heaven that there are some adults who have their priorities straight.

"Hello, Coach? It's Santana. I need Breadstix's delivery line."

"Santana? So how's yo—"

"Coach, I would love chitchatting with you, but now's not the time. I need the number now."

Santana thanks the higher powers for women because Coach understands and gives her the number immediately.

"Thanks Coach. You'll be forever on my good side."

She hears a chuckle on the other end.

"Whatever you say, pumpkin."

She slides down the stair bannister and reaches for the landline. Like lightning, her fingers dial the number.

Now, all she has to do is wait.

* * *

Brittany's worried.

Whenever Santana goes to the dentist, and it's her mom who brings her and not Brittany, she'll always text her later to come over. Sure, since they've become girlfriends and all, Brittany's almost always over, but it's tradition, and Santana hasn't sent her even one message.

She drives over to Santana's house. It's dark and all the lights are closed. Normally, that would mean San's parents were working overtime again, and that she was listening to music in her bedroom with the lights off, but San said that she and her mom went to the dentist. Which should mean that they'd be in the living room crying into each other's arms watching soap operas, waiting for Brittany to come by. Apparently, that's not the case.

There's something wrong here, and Brittany plans to find out what it is. She gets out of her car, and walks into the Lopez lawn, right under where Santana's bedroom window is. She looks into it and sees…is that candlelight?

Brittany climbs up the tree next to the window. She's swift and silent, and virtually invisible for those looking out of the bedroom. What if they were robbers? What if they have a gun?

She's on the branch level to the window, and what she sees shocks her.

God.

This is worse than that bush incident.

Santana's in the bedroom, sitting on one side of a round patio table decorated with a candle and a bouquet of roses. She's wearing a little black dress, and her hair is all styled up. Her makeup is perfect, and she looks absolutely stunning. Problem is, the person sitting across her isn't Brittany.

Actually, it isn't a person at all.

Across her, stacked on a chair, are at least four big boxes, the one at the top sporting a blonde wig. The top box's side, the one facing Santana, is open. Brittany squints, and it seems like the box contains…breadsticks.

Santana reaches out an arm and grabs a stick from the supposed face of the stack. Brittany watches as her girlfriend reverently takes a bite out of the stick. The look on her face after that first taste is one of pure delight and pleasure, and Brittany just stands there, gaping.

Does this count as cheating?

Santana's seated at an angle, so unless she decides to look directly out the window, she won't see Brittany spying on her. Brittany pries the window to open it a little wider.

"God, when did you get so good?"

Santana finishes the breadstick and moves to get another one. Before placing it in her mouth, she eyes it, with a look full of love and longing and—she only looks at Brittany like that. She should only look at Brittany like that.

"I'm sorry babe; Brittany's the most wonderful person in the whole history of the fucking world, but she just doesn't get you. Sometimes, I think she gets jealous."

Santana smiles and bites into the dry bread.

"Don't tell her this, but—god you are heavenly—I think that's ridiculous. She's my girlfriend, and she's like—mhmmmhm—my life, and you're just a piece of bread. Delicious, heaven-sent bread, but still."

Ridiculous? Brittany's being the one called ridiculous? Says the girl talking to pieces of baked dough.

Santana takes one after one and Brittany has no idea how she keeps her figure. Of course, she enjoys it when her girlfriend uses her mouth, but she'd rather it be used on her

"Fuck, how are you still so good? I should be sick of you by now. But no, you just keep getting better and better. I think—I think, I—I—"

Santana whimpers.

Okay, Brittany has to put a stop to this.

She opens the window, and immediately Santana looks to her. She blows out the candle and moves to hide the boxes.

"Uh, h—hi Brittbritt. Wha—what are you doing here?"

Santana has this terrified look on her face which is all kinds of adorable. Brittany decides to humor her.

"Oh, I was just checking up on my girlfriend. So, how was the appointment, San?"

"The appointme—yeah! The appointment! No cavities or anything! You wanna go to the bathroom to check it out? My lights are busted, and, uh, I—"

"I'm pretty sure they were working yesterday San. Come on, let me check."

"No Britt, it's, I, uh—"

She turns the lights on, and as expected, the room is illuminated. She turns to the box woman and pretends to let out a surprised gasp. She walks to it and grabs the wig from the top of its, uh, head.

"San, what's this?"

"I, uh—I heard Coach say that Breadstix delivers."

Oh.

Santana blushes and her eyes move to the floor.

"So you decide to cheat on me with a couple of boxes?"

"No, it's not, I, no! I—"

San says that ethnic people don't really blush. Brittany holds back a laugh, because right now, Santana's definitely blushing.

"First the bush, and now this? I'm not sure I can get over inanimate things giving you more satisfaction than I ever could, San."

"What? No, you're, I'm, ugh—"

"I'm not sure if I can ever forgive you. Unless—"

"Unless what?"

Frankly, Brittany's pride is a little wounded. She has to show her girlfriend who's the best.

"Clothes on the floor. Now."

1


End file.
